The Woods
by connora
Summary: He cocked his head to the side, giving you a once over that made you feel violated. Scabior/You
1. One

The sky was fading into a deep shade of navy as you made your way home from class. The walk wasn't exceptionally long but it was through the woods and when the sun was gone, it seemed that much longer. Your satchel slung across your shoulder and your hair falling out of its ponytail after a long day, you tucked your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep warm. Autumn had long since gone and fall was turning into winter right on schedule. The leaves and sticks crunched beneath your worn in sneakers as you passed the familiar pine tree that reminded you that you were near to the halfway point which was a stream. You thought you could hear the faint trickling of the water in the distance.

The air was chilly and bit at your cheeks as the wind whipped itself around your pea coat. Running your fingers over your house key that was tucked in your left pocket and mobile that was in your right, you let your mind wander absently. The projects you had to work on before the semester was out, what time you needed to be at work on Saturday, if your mother would make cranberry cheesecake for the holidays like she did last year. You checked your cell phone absently; the battery was dying and it was nearing four thirty.

That's when you heard it. A 'pop' noise from the far left. Without slowing your pace, you peered into the clearing the natural landscape offered but there was nothing to be seen apart from a fallen tree. Deciding it was nothing more than lack of sleep from working on a last minute project late the night before, you continued on, keeping your head tucked down into your scarf, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and amber.

Ten steps later you heard the same sound again, but this time it was from behind you. Gripping your keys in your pocket, you sandwiched your house key between your fingers, ready to use it in your defense if you had to. You slowed your pace for a moment, waiting. If there was someone there, surely they would come into your line of sight. After all, why would they be worried about someone seeing? Then it hit you. _You were alone_. The nearest house was at least a mile away and even then there was no guarantee that you could outrun whoever was behind you, especially if it meant hopping over tree branches.

Inhaling the sharp air, you turned your head slowly, letting your eyes roam over every inch of the wooded area. Nothing seemed out of place or unusual but part of you knew that you were trying to convince yourself of this idea. There wasn't anyone there. You really were alone. The walk home suddenly seeming longer, you quickened your pace, trying to make up for lost time. And there was the stream. The wave of relief that washed over you was short lived.

There was a man in the woods.

He was too far away for you to really see, but he was looking at you. He was staring, almost as if he could see right through you. And he was straight ahead. You stopped in your tracks, unsure whether or not to make eye contact. Perhaps he was just passing and completely unrelated to anything you had heard prior. After all, how could he have gone from behind you to in front of you in a matter of only minutes without your noticing? It was impossible.

But you didn't have to debate for very long. In what seemed like a blink, he was gone. Your eyes never left him but he wasn't there anymore. Surely you were delusional. People don't just appear and disappear in instances. Taking a deep breath and running your hand along your forehead for comfort would be your downfall.

No sooner had your hand left your pocket, you heard the unfortunately familiar popping noise and before you had time to even process what was happing, you felt hands twist behind your back and smelled wood smoke. Someone had gripped your hands and forced you on your knees, face down. There was breath on your neck, hot and tight, coming in short gasps. You tried to wriggle out of the grip you were in but it was no use. You had nowhere to go.

"I'll make this much worse if you fight me, love." Came a man's hoarse voice and you instantly knew it belonged to the stranger from before.

"Please." you managed to get out between breaths. "Please, I'll give you what money I have-"

"Shhh. Shhh." He whispered into your ear, your stomach turning in fear. "I don't want your money – it's of no use to me."

"W-What do you want?" you said after a moment, wondering if you even wanted him to answer the question.

He didn't respond, but you felt him grin into the curve of your neck, the scent of wood filling your lungs again – _his_ scent. He inhaled heavily, breathing in your hair, scarf, coat, all of you.

"Now I think we both know the answer to that, don't we?" he said in an irritatingly soft voice. Shifting his weight, he pulled you upright and onto your feet. "C'mon, upsy daisy."

Keeping your hands firmly grasped in his own, he stood in front of you, letting you take in the full view of him.

He was tall, and you almost had to crane your neck to look up at him. His hair was long and tied back in what you could only know to be a ribbon. His face was unshaven and his clothes looked like they'd been well worn. The one thing that redeemed all of these seemingly unfavorable qualities was the blue of his eyes. It was dark, almost navy and you had to blink to make sure that they were even real. He raised his hand to your cheek and brushed away loose strands of hair, causing your body to stiffen at the uninvited touch, though part of you wondered if in different circumstances you would mind so much.

"Now, don't be like that, love." He said with raised eyebrows. "You see, I'd let you go," he explained, "But you're just far too beautiful to pass up. So," he said, inflexion heavy in his voice, "I suggest that you behave yourself and we'll get along fine."

You stared at him for a long moment. It was obvious what he wanted, what he had planned, and at the present time, there was no way to escape. You were reminded of the countless horror films where the captive always seemed to get away at just the right moment. Something told you that you wouldn't have such luck.

"And if I don't?" you said bravely, feeling your heartbeat in your ears, pulsating through your veins.

He cocked his head to the side, giving you a once over that made you feel violated. His lips were pursed together. His silence gave you a moment to look at the curve of his cheek and the bow of his lips. Intriguing, but also disgusting, you reminded yourself.

"If you don't," he said, leaning in close, placing his lips to your ear again, your throat catching, "I'll make sure you feel it when I kill you."


	2. Two

Your eyes fluttered open sometime later. The only reason you could be sure that time had passed was because the sky was now completely dark. The idea crossed your mind that everything had been a dream, that you had made it all up to keep yourself from getting bored on the walk home. But that didn't explain your current state. That's when the pain set in; a throbbing pain at the base of your neck behind your head. You tried to move your hands to inspect the area when you realized that they were bound together behind you between your back and that base of a tree. What happened? You thought hazily.

_Flashback_

You had wriggled free of your captor shortly after you crossed over the stream. _If you don't do it now, you'll never do it. 'Don't let them take you to the second location' that's what everyone always says _you thought frantically.

After staring at you for a long moment, he guided you as you walked, his hands firm on your lower back. It was uncomfortable but you knew that if you moved fast enough, you had a fighting chance. He didn't speak but you could feel his eyes on you, every inch of you as you walked. You thought about distracting him somehow but every idea seemed obvious. After finally taking a deep breath, you ripped yourself from his grip, sprinting hard toward the outskirts of the forest. You had thought for sure you had gotten a good head start on him when you felt the ground rip out from under you. You fell, face first, onto the wooded floor. But he wasn't anywhere near you – how had you fallen? You heard his footsteps nearing closer, branches snapping under his boots.

_End Flashback_

That was the last thought you remembered having before blacking out. He must have hit you, you thought painfully, your head still throbbing.

From where you sat, you couldn't see him and thought about trying to escape again but your body refused to move. You weren't alone for long – he emerged from the right, holding a long stick in his hand and what looked like a bottle in the other.

"Have a good sleep, beautiful?" he said nonchalantly, pointing the stick in his hand at the ground. You didn't plan on answering, but even if you did, it would have been cut short by the sparks that flew from the stick's end, igniting a fire five feet in front of you. Your eyes widened and for a moment, you considered that this was how he planned on killing you – live burning.

"How did you … ?" you breathed, more concerned with the inexplicable fire then anything else.

He looked at you for a moment, his face illuminated in the light of the fire. He was quiet and stepped in circles around the flame, as if he were debating something. You watched him carefully, having already underestimated him once.

"That, my lovely, is a story for another day." He took three long steps toward you before kneeling in front of you, tipping the bottle he was holding up, offering it to you.

"What is it?" you asked uncertainly. You were fairly positive it wasn't anything poisonous – he wouldn't dispose of you just yet, would he?

"Beggars can't be choosers – anyone ever tell you that? Tip your head back." He commanded and reluctantly, you did. He placed the bottle at your lips softly, more gently than you imagined. He poured some of the liquid into your mouth, waiting for you to swallow before giving you anymore. It was cold and sweet, almost like orange juice but not quiet the same flavor. At the quizzical look on your face, he simply said, "It's pumpkin juice, it won't kill you." Offering you more, which you accepted, you had a hard time accepting this man as the same one who promised to make you the victim of a homicide only hours ago.

Standing, he put the bottle into what you knew to be your satchel. From it, he pulled a newspaper and sat down a few feet away from you. He looked at the headlines intently, as if he were looking for something. Quickly flipping through the pages, you hardly had any time to read over any of the titles, though you did notice one thing – the pictures were moving. You blinked your eyes twice and wished you could wipe away the sleep from the corners of your eyes. You weren't imaging this – they were really moving.

The man caught sight of your bewilderment and watched you for a moment. His one knee drawn up to his chest, he rested his arm atop it, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You're a muggle aren't you?" he said slowly.

"A what?" you said after a moment, having to pull your eyes away from the photographs. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." He said, folding the paper and throwing it down. Running his hand across his face, he folded his arms across his chest.

"What does that mean?" you asked shaking your head.

"It means you're one of two things; either very valuable or very useless, depending on the circumstance." He said, biting his lip in thought before hopping to his feet. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he helped you up. After you were standing, he focused his eyes on you, inches from your face.

"You would be smart not to try running this time, eh?" he said, bringing his hand to the back of your head, applying pressure to the very sore spot. When you let out a painful squeal, you thought you saw him grin. "'S good to know we're on the same page."

Releasing you, he walked in circles around you, trying to judge what his next move should be. If you knew absolutely nothing, then Pius would have a much more pleasant time making an example out of you, though you wouldn't be worth much gold. If you knew even a little, you'd be a liability and Pius would have to give him _something_ for you. And even then, your torment would be entertaining because then your begging would include promises not to tell anyone anything, which would of course be ignored. He tapped his chin in thought. Regardless, he would hang onto you for a few days before making any rash decision.

"You cold?" he asked thoughtfully, indicating the slight chill you had seemed to catch. The night air wasn't as windy but the temperature had dropped considerably. You didn't give him an answer but that didn't stop him from pulling his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. Helping to you sit back down in your same spot, he surprisingly sat down beside you in close proximity. His jacket was warm and the scent of wood smoke clung to your body. His face was shadowed in the light but the blue of his eyes was still visible and almost enchanting.

"What's your name?" you asked before you had time to think about your question. It just slipped out but he didn't look surprised.

"Why do you want to know?" he said, taking his gloves off absently.

"Well, what am I supposed to call you?" you shrugged and he stopped.

It hadn't crossed his mind that you would want to address him at all. If anything, he thought, you should loathe him with every fiber of your being. The way he talked to you, treated you, hell, he physically abused you. He let his eyes rest on your face, the sweep of your eyelashes, the cupid's bow of your lips. He looked at you in the same way you had looked at him not so long ago. You thought you saw the corners of his lips turn up in a grin. It was the first time he genuinely felt endeared.

"You can call me Scabior." Was all he said before wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you in close. "Get some sleep, love." He whispered.

You were exhausted so you willingly closed your eyes. His body was warm and the sound of his heart and the crackling of the fire filled your ears. He wrapped his arms around you loosely, brushing your hair back. You couldn't be sure because the details were fuzzy, but you thought that you felt him kiss the top of your head before dozing off himself.

* * *

**A/N;** I didn't expect the overwhelming response that this story got - thank you all so much! I'm having a good bit of fun writing this and might have an additional chapter up tonight! Thank you so much for the reviews and feedback - it is greatly appreciated it!


	3. Three

The sound of birds chirping woke you the following morning. You didn't have a watch but the sun wasn't yet up so you knew that it must have been at least seven in the morning. Sitting upright, you pulled Scabior's jacket around your shoulders. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest.

You thought that it might be an appropriate time to straighten yourself up. Pulling the ponytail out of your hair, you realized that your hands were free. He must have cut you loose sometime last night. You also realized that you were wearing gloves – you recognized them as his own; the fingertips were cut off. Sweeping your hair back into its elastic confines, you got to your feet, folding his jacket over your arm.

Closing the gap between the two of you, you stood beside him, looking at his profile. You weren't quite sure how to break the silence given the odd situation; this man had kidnapped you for … for something, and at the same time, he was kind enough to lend you his jacket to keep warm, and kiss you goodnight.

"You can keep it for now, if you like." He said, his eyes still focused on the woods.

Without a word, you put on the jacket. It was still warm from your slumber and now smelled like a mixture of the both of you. Tucking your hands into the pockets, you balled your hands in and out of fists to keep them warm.

"What are we doing?" you asked after it became apparent that he wasn't going to initiate any conversation.

"Why? You in a rush?" he said with a smirk. Waving his hand dismissively, he turned back to the makeshift campsite and scanned the area, making sure that it was empty. "Are you hungry?"

It had been a good 16 hours since your last meal and only then did you notice the grumbling of your stomach. It was enough of an answer for him.

"Right then. Come on." He said, taking your hands and locking them around his arm. "Now, before we go anywhere, you have to promise me that you won't cause a scene, because if you do, I cannot be held responsible for what I'll do. Do you understand?"

You had a hard time wrapping your mind around the idea of 'going anywhere' because if you did, surely someone you knew would see you and put together what was actually happening. Just the same, you nodded, a hint of fear in your stomach.

"Good. Take hold of my arm and do not, under any circumstances let go. Unless of course you fancy an odd number of limbs." He said with a cheeky grin.

Gripping his right arm tightly while he wrapped the left around you, you looked around the clearing, wondering what it was he was about to do. Instantly you felt your body leave the ground and it felt as though you were being forced through a tube. The air was tight and you had a hard time controlling your heart rate. _What was happening?_ Regardless, you remembered Scabior's words and held onto him. Likewise, he did not let you go.

Just as quickly as it had happened, it was over and you turned to see a small café standing alone on an empty street. Gasping to catch your breath, he placed his hand on the small of your back and lowered himself to your height to look at you.

"You alright?" he said seriously, to which you nodded quickly.

Nodding toward the establishment, he led you inside and offered you a seat at the counter. The entire place appeared to be empty with the exception of a teenage girl who had a thick scowl on her face.

"Where are we?" you asked curiously, looking around the unfamiliar place. You had never seen this restaurant before and knew that you were nowhere near your hometown or the surrounding area.

"Welcome to Deliah's. Can I start you off with a drink?" the girl said systematically.

"Coffee, black, for me." Scabior said, picking up his menu nonchalantly.

"Orange juice." You said quickly, pretending to scan your own menu. When the waitress walked away, you turned back to Scabior, who was very interested in the blue plate special.

Once he noticed your gawking, he simply said, "You'll get your information on a need to know basis. Now, you said you were hungry." He said knowingly.

After several minutes the waitress came back with the requested beverages and took your respective orders; yours was the closest thing to your favorite breakfast food while his included, eggs, sausage, black pudding, bacon and other odds and ends that he thought looked appealing.

"How was it that we got here?" you asked evenly, almost demanding an answer to this one.

"What did I just say?" he said, agitated.

"If you're going to do it again, I _need_ to know what it was so that I don't lose this meal in the process." You said, causing him to turn in his chair, one hand at his hip, the other on the counter.

"Fair enough." He said with a raised eyebrow. "I'll explain it later, I promise." He added for effect.

When the waitress brought back the food, you helped yourself to the meal, thankful that despite your current situation, Scabior wasn't the worst company. Turning to look at him, you noticed several more things. First, he had a strong jaw line. Second, there was a red streak that ran the length of his hair. It would have looked absolutely stupid on anyone else, but somehow he pulled it off.

"Can I ask another question?" you said, putting your eating utensil down.

"Can I stop you?" he replied simply, taking a bite of his toast before turning to look at you.

"Why am I here?" It was an obvious question and he had expected you would be asking it soon.

"Because, if life has taught me anything, it's that women are particularly miserable when they're hungry."

"I mean with you." You clarified, resting your elbow on the countertop, though his respond made you grin.

Now that was a good question, he thought inwardly. But it wasn't easy to explain. Well, he considered, actually, it was very easy to explain. But there was no sense in ruining a perfectly good meal with a lot of talk.

"Because I want you with me." He said with a shrug. "Want and you shall receive."

It was a vague answer and you knew that there must be more to it. But a public place probably wasn't the best place to discuss it. The point was, he knew you were thinking about it and that had to count for something.

You both finished up breakfast and he motioned for you to follow him toward the restrooms, which were located in a secluded alcove. It struck you as odd that he would want to accompany you to the bathroom when he held out arm again for you to grab hold of it. You looked at it for a moment and folded your arms across your chest.

"Not until you tell me what it is." You declared.

"We don't exactly have time for this when we're playing beat the bill, alright? I said later, I mean later." He said seriously, looking to make sure the waitress was out of sight.

"No, I'm not going anywhere until I know why." You said with more force this time.

Grabbing you by your shoulders and pressing you against the wall so that your faces were only a hair apart, he let his eyes bare into you. He pulled your hands down, holding them in his own by your sides. Your breath caught in your throat at the close proximity and you wondered what he planned on doing next. His lips were almost too close to your own and you wondered if he might try to kiss you.

"I don't owe you anything, do you understand me? I could have tossed you long ago but I didn't. You have to consider that I'm your best bet for staying alive right now, got it?" he said genuinely.

It made absolutely no sense. You were in no imminent danger of anything before you met him. Now seemed as if there was a war going on. Given that you knew nothing of him or where he came from, this all seemed mad. He acted like each move you made had to be calculated.

And it did. His original plan was just to snatch you and have a bit of fun before turning you over to the ministry. But when he watched you sleep it became apparent that you were a human being, not just a muggle, and the longer you stayed with him, the more this idea brewed. He wanted to dispose of you, but you were worth invaluable gold. Then again, you were a person. He didn't usually regard muggles as people, but he was starting to think that maybe you were different even if it was against his better judgment. He was struggling to make a decision and refused to make is hastily.

Pressing his body to your own to fit the curve of you, he wrapped his arms around you, meeting at your back.

"Put your head down, you won't feel it as much." He said and you buried your head into his chest and he into the curve of your neck. "Trust me." Was all he said before the world turned once again.


	4. Four

When you landed back in the woods, your landing wasn't as graceful and you felt yourself fall backwards. Because you were holding him so tightly, he fell with you. When you opened your eyes, you found that his face was next to yours - he had fallen on top of you, his weight suddenly making you very aware of the position you were in.

"Sorry." You said quickly, though there wasn't much you could do to get him to move. He lifted his head only slightly so that he could look at you and you felt his eyelashes brush against your jawline. You heard yourself gasp before you realized you did it.

"Something wrong?" he said, his voice low.

You wanted to answer, but you weren't sure if anything really was wrong, besides the obvious. It was nervewracking to be in such close company with someone so incredibly vile but also very handsome. It was the first time you used that word; _handsome._ But he was, and something told you that he knew you felt this way and was using it to his advantage.

"Close your eyes." he said curiously, bringing his hand to your cheek, running it along the side of your face.

"Why?" you managed to say without too much shakiness in your voice.

"I'm not sure if you want to see this." he said with the same curious tone.

Unsure of what he was going to do but fearing the worst, you closed your eyes tightly, waiting expectantly.

At first, nothing happened. You thought that maybe he was playing one of his clever games. Then you felt the heat of his breath against your lips. He lingered for what felt like at least a few minutes. Your heartbeat accelerated and your mind was turning with different ideas. His words and his actions didn't match, you thought hazily. If he knew that you were suddenly starting to find him attractive, then why wouldn't you want him to kiss you? Maybe he was trying to confuse you -

Then it happened.

Mid-thought, you felt the light pressure of his lips against your own. For someone so rough and rugged looking, the kiss was uncommonly soft. You weren't sure how to respond, but it didn't matter because just as quickly as it happened, he pulled away but only just. Your eyes immedialely flew open and you felt your chest rise and fall. His own eyes were opened only slightly, his hand still at your cheek.

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, or some form of action. For the first time, he looked unsure, vulnerable and it was endearing. You moved your hands, which were tucked at your sides, to his chest, gripping the collar on his sweater. He looked at your face as if he were trying to memorize your features, comitting them to memory. He leaned in once again, but this time he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You closed your eyes under his lips, feeling your breath shudder. At the sound, you felt his lips turn into a grin at your forehead.

"What's funny?" you whispered, unsure if he even heard you.

"This." he said in reference to the relationship between the two of you. "Yesterday you were so eager to run away from me. And now ..." he trailed off.

"Maybe I wouldn't run if I knew-"

"Shh. Shh." he said softly, caressing your cheek. "Later."

"But you-"

"Said that before?" he grinned. "I know, I know. Trust me." he said with genuine intention.

And you did.

* * *

**A/N;** Thanks so much to everyone who has added this to their Story/Author Alert Lists as well as Favorite Stories - it means so much to know that you all are enjoying this as much as I am! I read every single review and am so thankful for your feedback! I know that this is a shorter chapter, but I thought it was sweet and leads well into ... well, you'll see! ;)


	5. Five

Once you both gained composure, you got to your feet and he started walking, confident that you'd follow. And you did, a few steps behind him, but close enough to see his eyelashes. You thought for a moment about how it might feel for them to sweep against your cheek again. Your lips were still tingling from the kiss and you considered that it might not have even happened. But it did and you knew that. It was intoxicating to think about.

Your mind was still hazy from his chosen mode of transportation from earlier and you felt woozy on your feet, but pressed on.

It was close to an hour before he stopped and when he did, it was abrupt; so abrupt that you walked into him. You thought it curious because you were nowhere near a clearing; trees were scattered like toothpicks, branches of disarray in every direction. Reaching his arm behind his back, he quickly gripped you, scanning the area, all senses ready.

"What-" you began but he spun around and pressed his finger to your lips, systematically silencing you. His eyes a-flicker, he turned his head to the left and then the right before focusing his eyes on you. His eyes were conflicted, torn and you weren't sure how to react. He looked nervous and his entire body was tense.

A branch snapped behind your eyes flew to Scabior's mouth. 'I'm sorry' was what he managed to lisp soundlessly before you felt a surging pain ripple through your body. You fell to your knees, screaming in pain. It felt like lightening was shooting through your veins and you gripped the brush on the floor around you. It was searing. When it stopped, your hearing felt dulled and you managed to look up at Scabior, who held that familiar looking stick in his hand; it was pointed at you. _This is what he's sorry for_ you thought instinctively.

"Well, what do we have 'ere?" came a voice from behind you.

"Don't know yet. Found her wandering in the forest close to an hour ago." Scabior lied, though he looked at you in a way that suggested this.

"What's her name?" asked the man who grabbed a fistful of your hair, rearing your head back to face him. Scabior never said his name, but you figured he must have knew him, otherwise, he wouldn't be so passive.

"Haven't learned that either. She won't talk." Scabior said, though this was false. After he knocked you unconscious the day prior, he had a chance to look through your things, your name being written on several papers and notebooks. No, he knew your name alright.

"Who are you, girly?" the man asked, his breath repulsive.

It crossed your mind that whatever was transpiring was not part of Scabior's plan. In fact, he looked as though he were trying to avoid this only moments ago. And now, he was covering up everything that had happened. Casting a quick glance at him, you turned back to the man, providing him with a false name.

"Is that so?" he said in mock sweetness before throwing you down on the ground. He strode in circles around you. "Check the name." he said to Scabior who pulled a lazily bound book from his pocket. He rifled through the papers, giving a very believable performance; he looked each page up and down, paused a few times, even asked for the name again to be through.

"She's not on here." He said grudgingly, as if this was bad news.

"You're lucky, miss." he said, crouching down in front of you. He was positively disgusting and smelled like he'd evolved from a sewer before this moment in time. "'S too bad. We could have enjoyed each other's comp'ny." As he spoke, he let his hand trace the collar of your jacket – Scabior's jacket – and down to the top of your breasts, ready to let explore and violate your body more. He licked his lips and brought his other hand to your thigh, running it along your jeans, squeezing you when he reached your hips.

You closed your eyes, powerless to stop anything that might happen when you heard Scabior's voice.

"Hey, hey!" he said, genuinely angry. When you and the man turned to look at him, he his face immediately changed. While the man was none the wiser, you knew that the outburst must have come from some place.

"What?" he said, agitated at the interruption.

"I found her first, mate. Go get your own toy to play with." He said so convincingly that you almost believed him. "She's mine." When he said the latter words, he looked at you piercingly.

The man shoved you down roughly and stood, rubbing his jawline.

"Fair enough. But next time you come traipsing into one of my snatches, remember that."

"Of course." Scabior said, his eyes never leaving you. You thought that maybe this was for effect; to further convince him that Scabior wanted you for himself. But his eyes held yours for a little too long, and it occurred that this was no gimmick. Thankfully, the man paid no attention. With a loud 'pop,' he disappeared.

Before you had a chance to ask Scabior anything about his behavior, he ran to you, gripping your shoulders and pulling you into another direction. He was moving so fast you had to take three steps for one of his. When you were about forty feet away from where the man had disappeared, Scabior pulled you in close and you felt your head spin again. You shut your eyes and gripped him tightly.

There was loads of noise and lights when you reached your destination. You opened your eyes hesitantly but Scabior was moving – your hand in his – once again. You couldn't be sure where, but you were in a city. There were no distinctive billboards or lights but it was crowded, and you had a hard time maneuvering around the masses of people.

He quickly and thoughtlessly pulled you down an ally where both the noise and the lights reduced considerably. He let your hand go and began pacing, running his hand along his forehead. He was worried.

"What was-"

"Stop!" he interrupted though he didn't cease pacing. "Just stop!"

"I didn't do anything-"

"Just be quiet!" he said, all but throwing you up against the wall of a building. "I can't … I need to think about this …" he trailed off, crouching down, putting his head between his hands.

"What? What do you need to think about?" you said, irritated with the way his was behaving.

"Bleedin' Christ!" he yelled, his time gripping your shoulders and pinning you against the stone. "I'm doing my best to keep you in one piece! I can't do that very well when your curiosity kicks in!"

"You haven't given me any answers!" you retorted. "I think I've been a pretty good sport so far!"

"All you need to know is that you have to trust me!" he said, his hands holding you firmly in place while your own were at his chest in an attempt to restrain him.

"You haven't given me a reason to!" you said, exasperated.

"Reason? I _fucking_ saved your arse back there! You knew what he was going to do! What more reason do you need?" he nearly screamed, his expression pained.

"It wasn't his stick or whatever the bloody hell that thing is pointed at me, was it?"

"You think he would have let you go if he knew that I've been protecting you?"

"I _was_ protected until you came along!"

"Until I came along?"

"Yes. Until you showed up the woods-"

"Fine, fine, fine! I got you into this, so let me get you out!"

"Why don't you just let me go, then-"

"Dammit, don't be so thick!"

"I can fend for myse-"

"No, you can't! You don't understand what's-"

"I don't care!"

"Just let me exp-"

"Let me go!" you screamed, fighting him.

"You're not giving me a chance-"

"Scabior, let me-"

When you said his name, it was like a switch was flipped. Instead of gripping you, he was holding you. He stopped yelling and let his mouth crash against yours. It was passion, mad passion. The sound of his name on your lips drove him mad and it was the first time you'd ever said it. His hands slipped under your coat and around your waist, pulling you closer.

But you wasted no time responding. You parted your lips for him, deepening the kiss. His tongue delved in and out and your lips were fluid against his. He let his mouth trail down to your jaw, neck, collarbone, his stubble rubbing against every inch.

It was a frenzy.

Your hands ran along his sides, his waist, chest, and finally tangled themselves in his hair. You were gasping for air when his lips reached the top of your sweater and he murmured your name along the neckline.

You brought your hand to your forehead, trying to clear your thoughts. It was when his fingertips tugged at the waistband of your jeans that you spoke.

"Wait, wait." You said, breathless.

He burrowed his head into your neck – he _hated_ when women did this.

"What?" he said, though it was muffled.

"I'm not saying no." you said carefully, and he lifted his head. "I'm just saying not here, not like this."

It was a perfectly valid excuse. One's first sexual encounter altogether or sexual encounter with a new partner should not be next to a dumpster and possible disease. It should be somewhere safe, somewhere fitting.

He brushed the hair away from your face and nodded softly in agreement. He respected you too much at this point to shag you in a dimly lit alleyway. No, this had to be special. Placing a kiss on top of your head, he grasped your hands and pulled you in close. You knew what was coming next. You would open your eyes and be somewhere new. But where didn't matter so much as long as he was with you.


	6. Six

You were in a hallway. It was dark, but clean and there were photographs of flowers on the wall. It wasn't a distinct place, but the numbers on the doors assured you that this was a hotel. This was either very cheap, or very sweet, depending on what was behind room 759. You looked at Scabior who pulled a key from his pocket. You raised your eyebrow at his action.

"Do you come here often?" you asked, almost indignant.

"Yes," He nodded before adding, "alone."

When he opened the door, light hit you from all angles. Where there should have been a wall, there was nothing but windows; floor length windows that let the sunset in. The view was of the beach. As far as you could see, there was nothing but ocean. Curiously, there were no other houses along the shoreline. It was virgin sand. You wanted to question the uninhabited earth, but after the strange events of the day, you decided to let it be.

There was a bed in the middle of the floor. It sat low to the ground and had no headboard or footboard. The sheets were white and the pillows plush. The comforters made you realize how tired you really were. There wasn't much furniture, though there was a white chest pushed against one of the windows. On top of it was a fleece blanket. It was a deep crimson and looked warm.

"Here." He said, helping you out of his coat, tossing it onto an oversized chair. "There's a bathroom through there." He said, indicating a door you had not seen before. It was open and inside you saw a large bathtub and vanity. It have been a few days since your last shower and the thought of a hot bath was enough to entice you. "I'll get you something to wear." He nodded as you disappeared through the door into the bathroom.

The water was hot and it soothed every muscle in your body. The water was murky at it gathered at your feet but within five minutes time it ran clear once again. Your mind had time to wander about aimless things. You had lost track of time. Had it been only a few days since you'd been with Scabior? Yes, surely it had. But maybe it was longer. You remembered waking up twice to him, but did you sleep through an entire night the first time? The seasons hadn't changed, had they? It was near winter when you left. The windows in this room gave you the impression that spring was nearing. It hadn't been multiple months, had it? No, it was a mere few days, a week at most. Right?

Despite the fact that you were, for all intents and purposes, alone, you couldn't bring yourself to worry about your friends and family. They were undoubtedly wondering where you were but these thoughts scarcely crossed your mind, if at all. You thought that maybe you should be giving more consideration to them, but it was so easy to get distracted by Scabior.

When you turned the water off, the bathroom door was pulled closed and you found a stack of clothes sitting beside the sink. They were pajamas; the bottoms were thick flannel and the top was a white t-shirt. Your first thought was _this is incredibly _un_sexy._ But the cool air that wrapped itself around your legs made you appreciate the warm attire.

After dressing, you hung up your towel and walked into the main room where Scabior stood, looking out onto the ocean. Making your way beside him, you stared off into space, the line between the water and the sky blurred. It seemed endless.

Absently, he put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close, pressing his lips to your temple. You felt him inhale deeply before heading to the bathroom for his own shower. Sitting down in front of the window, you reached two conclusions; one, you were exhausted and even though only an hour ago you were very close to engaging in coitus, you could really use the sleep. And two, even though Scabior was very vague with his arguments, you trusted his judgment. He knew what he was doing. Despite that moment in time when he nearly cracked your skull, he had done a very thorough job of protecting you, though you weren't sure why. One of the first things he said to you was that he'd kill you and if you misbehaved, he'd make it all the more memorable. So why the sudden change of heart? It was the obvious question, but right now wasn't the best time to ask it.

You heard the water stop and what sounded like clothes sweeping over his body. You turned your head slightly so that you might see him out of your peripheral vision. You had such a clear vision of him in your head dressed in his worn clothes and boots that it came as a shock to see him in something other than plaid pants.

He wore a white thermal shirt that was pulled evenly across his chest. His hair was loose and hung down his back, jagged at the ends. His pants were black and very plain looking. His face was still unshaven but he looked fictional, almost as if you had made him up. No human being should look so incredibly handsome.

It was this thought that made you stand up, the events of the past few days catching up with you. You tucked your drying hair behind your ear. You contemplated walking over to where he stood but you didn't have to think long – he closed the gap, his hands on top of your shoulders.

"You have to sleep." He said quietly, almost regrettably. Even though he was just as eager to be with you in the most intimate of ways, it would mean absolutely nothing if the both of you were already too exhausted.

"I know but-" you began when he 'shhed' you.

"We're not going anywhere anytime soon." He assured you. "I'll still be here when you wake up." He promised.

You nodded reluctantly and lay atop the cloud-like blanket. No sooner had your head hit the pillow you were asleep. Scabior watched you for a moment before lying down on the other side of the bed. He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

He had never met anyone like you before. Someone who, despite very little verbal exchange, crawled under his skin - but not in a bad way; in the most charming of. You lay beneath his shoulder, his hands, the fibers of his being, as if you were a secret he was keeping. No one had made him consider his wellbeing before, his choices, his pastimes. He thought it curious that in his current station in life, when he assumed this type of happiness had already passed him by, it should come around again.

He cast a look at you before closing his eyes. There would be plenty of time to think about that later, he reminded himself. Right now, his focus was sleep, because when he awoke, something told him that nothing would hold him back.

* * *

**A/N;** I know, I know - I keep leaving these cliffhangers ( :D ) but that's because what's about to happen next is going to happen in two parts and I want to make sure it makes sense. Again, **thank you all so much for the reviews and comments**. I've seen promotions for this on tumblr and I'm so eternally grateful. All of your kind words and feedback fuel me to write more everyday. :D  
3 Ash


	7. Seven

You opened your eyes after the most restful sleep you think you'd ever had. The blankets were wrapped around your feet and you curled your toes against the plush material. Your hair was in the wonderful stage of being freshly dry and felt like ribbons against your face. You turned your head gently, careful not to disturb the pillows hugging your skull. Scabior was wide-awake and in the light of the morning, his face looked angelic. The sun caught the side of his face at such an angle you had to make sure once again that you weren't confusing fantasy and reality.

Wordlessly, he reached his hand across the small space and touched the side of your cheek; it was so affectionate it was almost painful. You lifted your hand to cover his own, giving him a gentle squeeze. It conveyed a message that was understood already. He told you to sleep, so you did. But not much had changed in the way of sexual desire. You wanted him, and the feeling was certainly mutual.

He leaned in close so that your faces were touching but only just. Then you felt it. The sweep of his eyelashes against your cheek. How could this man – this incredibly scornful and at times brutal man – be so careful with you? You supposed it didn't matter.

He took your hands and pulled you to your knees so that you were both facing each other at an upright angle. Letting his fingertips dance along the bottom of your t-shirt, he never took his eyes off of your own. It was enticing. He bit him bottom lip before pulling the fabric above your head, exposing your breasts. The bra you were wearing was black, one he had cleverly picked out from the night before.

Following his lead, you removed his own shirt, his chest coming into full view. He laid you down against the pillows, the sun spilling over your bodies like fresh waves. Your hair fell around your shoulders in its natural state and he looked at you like you were a salvation. By the time you had both removed any other articles of clothing, you felt the aching need to be with him.

He was gentle at first. He took his time and trailed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone to your breasts to your belly button. His touch was so soft that it made you shiver even though you were both wrapped beneath the comforter, still warm from your slumber.

Your fingers intertwined, you placed your hands on either side of his face, and his lips upturned in that rare grin he bestowed upon you. Rubbing your thumb along his chin, he closed his eyes under your touch. For someone so strong, so confident, he was so vulnerable in your arms.

He ran his hand along your side, pausing at your hipbone and continuing to your thigh, his eyes never leaving you. You felt him press against you and you closed your eyes, waiting. He bent down close so that his face was beside yours. You brought your hands to his neck, holding his shoulders. You felt yourself gasping already, in anticipation and this made him grin; you could feel it against your face.

When it finally happened you felt a surge of pressure. It wasn't terribly painful, but like a heavy weight. You felt yourself gasp and for consolation, he kissed you briefly, his lips fluid.

With each motion, you felt him penetrate deeper and it was enough for you dig your nails into his back, though he didn't seem to mind. His hair cascaded down his back and if nothing else, he looked like an Adonis. His chest was rigid and sprinkled with hair. He was nothing short of beautiful.

His pacing was slow at first, easing you into the length of his member, which wasn't what you expected, not that you thought he would be unimpressive. He just took you - pleasantly - by surprise. When he was allowed full entrance, he quickened his pace, each thrust harder and more impactful then the last.

Already, his body was beaded with sweat and it had barely begun.

You arched your back underneath him, desperate to get closer to him. He buried his head into your neck, his teeth raking against your shoulder when it was almost too much for him. His breathing was hard and his breath was hot against your neck. You were almost positive that it was searing your skin. The intensity was climbing.

You clawed at the sheets, letting out moans that were quickly silenced by his mouth against yours. His kissed you deeply, passionately, biting your bottom lip in frenzy. You wrapped your legs around his back briefly, pulling him in. Noticing your eagerness, he grinned, and pulled your legs away.

His head was hazy but his concentration was all on you. Using all of his weight to pin you down, his pressed his hand on your stomach, adding pressure. It was enough to make you scream when you reached your own release, throwing your head back.

When he came to his own, he collapsed beside you, his eyes closed and his hand at his forehead. He looked as exhausted as you felt. Your muscles were already sore but you felt yourself grin as you closed your eyes again.

"Fucking, hell." He said still breathless, though you could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

You grinned at his comment and turned onto your stomach, absently letting your fingers trace circles across his chest. There was a long moment without speaking and you thought that maybe he had gone to sleep, but then he opened his eyes. They were the bluest you'd ever seen them.

He took your hand in his and kissed your fingertips, a quiet grin on his lips. Though it didn't last long. Letting your hand go, he sighed heavily.

"So I guess you'll be wanting some answer then?"

This wasn't exactly pillow talk but his facial expression had changed. It was ominous; as if he had something he didn't want to tell you. That bit about your safety he had mentioned before rang clear in your memory and you wondered if that might have something to do with it. Was this really something he wanted to talk about _now_?

"Can I ask you something?" he said seriously to which you nodded. "You don't have to make me a promise or any bullocks like that … but," he considered, "Just keep in mind that I wasn't always like this."

"Like what?" you said automatically.

"Some people are just inherently good." He said after a moment. "They're just born that way. But I'm not one of them."

"I don't-" you began, unsure of exactly what he was trying to tell you.

"You will." He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And you're not going to like it, but regardless, keep an open mind, eh?" he said the last bit with a pained grin, running his index finger the length of your flushed face.

You pulled the pillow close to your chest as he lay on his side. You quickly ran though every vague thing he had said in the past few days, trying to quickly reach a conclusion that could be much worse then what he was about to reveal.

"You haven't made plans to kill me off, have you?" you said with a pinch of humor to lighten the mood.

But Scabior did not laugh.

* * *

**A/N;** :D I had good fun writing this and I hope you all had fun reading it. AGAINAGAINAGAIN, all of the feedback is so appreciated - I cannot express how much it means to me. The constructive criticism, too! No worries, there are more scenes like this coming - I'm almost on my holiday break! (:


	8. Eight

_Scabior ran through the woods as fast as his feet would carry him. Keep going, he told himself, just keep going. They were getting closer; he could hear it. His head was full of thoughts but he couldn't keep any of them straight. His jacket flapped in the wind behind him. Scabior looked to his left where his brother, Nero, jumped over fallen trees, his chest heaving as he ran._

_If they could just make it a little bit farther._

_**POP**_

_Scabior hardly had any time to process what had happened. There was black smoke billowing in every direction. It was Them, he knew it._

_By the time the smoke cleared, Scabior looked up to find a wand pointed at his face. Nero was detained on the other side of the clearing._

"_I admire your efforts," said one of the many men in the woods, "But you're a fool to think you can outrun us."_

"_What's your name?" another asked, pulling a list from his pocket._

_Scabior looked at his brother, who was panicked. They were just boys, but Scabior was older, he had to be the brave one._

"_Scabior." He said after a moment, swallowing hard._

"_That's it? One name?" the man with the book said._

"_It's distinct, Mica. It'll suffice." The tall man said, eyeing Scabior closely._

"_And you?" Mica said to Nero, who grudgingly gave his name. "They're both clear, Loren."_

"_Clear of what?" Scabior asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_Now you should know the answer to that, _Scabior_." Loren said with distaste. "After all, you _did_ run from us, didn't you?"_

_Scabior was silent but held Loren's gaze, unsure of what to say to explain himself, or if that was something he should even consider doing. He cast a glance at Nero whose face was paling despite the fact that the other men had released him._

"_What do you want?" Scabior asked bravely._

"_He sent us for you." Loren explained._

"_He?" Scabior raised and eyebrow. "What does He want with us?"_

"_Your support, of course." Loren said respectively. "He has the power to take over this world, as I'm sure you know. And He will. The question is, do you plan on being a part of it?"_

"_Do I plan on joining Him, you mean?"_

"_Oh, no," Loren said with a gentle shake of his head, "It's not about joining him. You see," he began, spinning his wand between his fingers, "It's about whether or not you want to live. You're either with him, or against him."_

_Loren pointed his wand at Nero, muttering an incantation that brought Scabior's brother to his knees in pain. His face twisted and his clawed at the ground looking for something, anything to make the pain stop. Scabior reached for his own wand but Loren turned on him._

"_Have I made myself clear?" he said evenly._

_Scabior looked at Loren with cold, hard eyes, almost challenging him. With a curt nod, Scabior watched as Loren, Mica and the rest of the cloaked men disappareted into the air, leaving behind no trace of their existence._

"_Are you alright?" Scabior said, running to his brother's aid._

"_Yes." Nero managed to say, clutching his chest. _

"_You're alright, you're alright." Scabior said repeatedly, helping his brother to his feet._

_Nero was shorter than his older brother, and his hair was long and dark. He had deep set brown eyes, features that they owed to their mother who was easily the most beautiful woman of her time, even at her death not so very long ago. Both of Scabior's parents perished in an attack that was launched by Him. They had no proof, but it was evident what the purpose was; to send a message._

_When Nero and Scabior entered the woods, they did so to enjoy the quietness of the evening, not to devise a plan that would ensure their survival. But there they sat, two men of seventeen and twenty. If Nero had his way, they would flee to another country, travel until the war was over. But Scabior didn't see it like that. He had seen what Voldemort was capable of, what kind of power he really had. And besides, their parents had already been victims. The obvious thing to do would be to run. Scabior ran his hand along his face, wrestling with the idea of how to please both his brother and the Dark Lord all at once._

_He wouldn't put Nero in danger, he just wouldn't. He had to protect him, which meant that becoming a Death Eater wasn't an option, at least not for Nero. By the time his brother had fallen asleep beside a dim campfire, Scabior had gone through every possible option._

_He didn't want to kill, but there was no way getting around it. That's what Voldemort wanted to _do_. Unless … Scabior's mind raced back to the events of earlier in the day. They were looking for them. Loren and Mica, they were looking for Scabior and his brother. Scabior's heart started to race suddenly. The woods. What if they stayed in the woods?_

_When Nero came to, Scabior explained the idea._

"_So," Nero said after a long, pause. "We would just … _look_ for people?"_

"_You make it sound less important than it really is." Scabior said with a roll of his eyes._

"_I'm sorry if traipsing around the woods all day doesn't seem like a waste of time to you-"_

"_Capturing people, Nero. That's all it would be. Capturing half-bloods, muggle-borns, whoever they want and trading them in for gold. Don't you see?" Scabior said enthusiastically. "It's perfect. Leave the dirty work to the Death Eaters. It's enough for us to stay on their side and make enough money to get by." _

_Nero was quiet and considered the idea. He rubbed his hands together and got to his feet, brushing his pants off._

"_All we do it snatch 'em?" Nero asked._

"_All we do is snatch 'em." Scabior said with a nod._

"_And what happens when we hand them over?" Nero said, turning to face his brother._

_They knew what would happen. They would be tortured, or killed, or probably both. It was a thought that loomed in the back of Scabior's mind, but he had to brush it aside. This was the only way. He didn't want to be the bad guy, but if being the bad guy meant protecting his family, then he'd do it._

"_What do you say?" Scabior said, biting his lip._

"_I think you're bloody mad." Nero said. "But I think it's worth a shot."_

_Scabior nodded before sitting down beside his brother under the canopy of the woods. Tomorrow when they went to Him, informing Him of their intentions, everything would change. They would become part of the problem and they would help to destroy lives. There were dark times ahead of them. But for now, they remained two boys, two brothers trying to stay together._

Scabior sat at the edge of the bed while you sat at the head of it, your knees drawn up to your chest, the comforter wrapped around you. His voice had grown quiet as he told the story and even though you couldn't seen his eyes, you knew they were soft.

"So then what happened?" you asked after a moment and Scabior turned to face you.

He let out a heavy sigh, as though he were remembering something so far off it was almost unimaginable. He ran his hand along his neck, covering his mouth for a second. He raised those unbelievably blue eyes to yours before tearing them away to look at the shoreline.

"Then, I became a monster."

* * *

**A/N; **My finals are officially over which means more Scabior :D Sorry for the wait - I promise I'll make up for it! As always, the comments and suggestions are always welcome and much appreciated. 3


	9. Nine

_They were good apart but together they were brilliant. They could earn as much as 500 galleons for one capture, depending on the blood purity. When they told Him about their idea, He was impressed, something they did not expect. He formulated a team of them - Snatchers - and they scoured the towns, the cities, the hillsides, but Scabior and __Nero __preferred the woods. There was room to run, room to think. Scabior wasn't particularly fond of their newfound profession but it was growing on him. With each capture, he became a little more aggressive. __Nero __tried to keep him in check once or twice but the power was getting to him. The people he was stumbling upon were becoming less like humans and more like animals, and he saw fit to treat them as such. He degraded them, screamed at them, used his most brutal spells on them. And he found that he liked it._

_But late at night when __Nero __stoked the fire, Scabior would let out a sigh and wish he had been a little more humane. He shouldn't have hit them so hard, used that particular spell on them, etcetera. __Nero __was civil about his feats. He'd round them up, bound their wrists and apparte them where they needed to be. Once he even obliterated a woman's memory so when she was killed, she wouldn't know what it was she would be missing. But Scabior took it to another level, day by day. He figured that it was enough for him to regret some it, but he never changed his behavior. It was becoming easier and easier to shrug it off._

_"When do you think this will all be over?" __Nero __asked absently, lying on his back, his hands tucked behind his head._

_"What do you mean?" Scabior asked, truly puzzled by his brother's inquiry._

_"The war. When do you think it will end?"_

_"When He wins. And even then, nothing will change." Scabior explained easily._

_"You honestly think He'll win?" __Nero __asked, truly surprised._

_"Of course." Scabior said systematically. "You don't?"_

_"Scab," __Nero __said after a moment, "He won't win as long as there are people fighting against him."_

_Scabior hadn't considered the idea of a world in which He didn't exist. Of course, he _had_ lived in a world where he didn't exist but that was beside the point. He was in such a place of high power now, there was no way He could lose. But when he went to sleep that night, Scabior couldn't help but wonder what he might be doing if he wasn't a Snatcher. He always liked Potions when he was at school. Maybe he'd be a Healer. Instead of hurting people, he'd be healing. That would be a nice change, he thought drowsily._

_Within the following months, the two brothers had outdone themselves and He called upon them several times, asking them to join Him and His most trusted followers. 'You have the potential, the determination to be great,' He had said. Scabior's interest was peaked, but Nero politely and hastily declined each time. _

"_Why not?" Scabior said eagerly one morning as they took down their tents._

"_Because if we do, there'll be no way out." Nero said with a shake of his head._

"_Nero, there's no way out now, you know that. He's too-"_

"_Scabior," Nero said firmly, "It's not over. It's never going to be over. Anyone who gains power the way he's gained it will lose. It's only a matter of time."_

_Scabior was conflicted, needless to say. He trusted his brother's judgment and valued his opinion, but it was impossible for Voldemort to lose. Loren's words came back to him, _you're either with Him or against Him_. _

_It might have been cowardice but Scabior didn't want to live in constant fear for his life, even if that meant standing up for what he thought was right. Nero, on the other hand, he was much stronger._

"You loved your brother a lot." You said, more to yourself than to Scabior, who had pulled on a pair of trousers and stood facing the window, his arms folded across his chest.

Scabior did not speak, but nodded his head. You couldn't be sure but you thought that he refrained from speaking so that his voice would not crack.

You tried to picture Nero in your own mind. Scabior described him as ruggedly handsome with a strong bone structure. You thought about asking if he kept a photograph of him, but decided against it. Perhaps it was better left in your memory.

"Go on." You said tentatively.

Scabior took three long strides to the window, gripping the panes with his hands. He was silent for a moment before bowing his head.

_It was April when Nero left. Nero was growing impatient, restless. Each capture he made he made with less effort. He had even let a group of half-bloods go a few weeks ago. Scabior was furious. Did he know what he was doing, what he was risking? Scabior had tried talking to him, but the tensions were growing and eventually, Nero took off. Scabior thought about chasing him, but he thought better of it. If someone asked him where Nero was, he wouldn't be able to lie. It was better that he didn't know._

_Scabior worked alone for a period of time, enjoyed his successes, but it wasn't the same without Nero. He had no one to talk to, no one to listen to. Nero was his other half. It was becoming increasingly harder to keep from looking for him._

_By the time April bled into May and May faded into June, Scabior couldn't fight it any longer. He needed to know that Nero was safe, even if he didn't support the cause anymore. After visiting and revisiting all of their old haunts Scabior was close to giving up, but part of him refused to believe that Nero didn't want to see him again. He had to be _somewhere_. _

_Then it hit him. The woods, of course. The one place he didn't think to look. Despite the fact that there was a large area to cover, there was one section that Nero preferred above all others. It was close to the towns but far enough away to be secluded. A stream ran though the center. It wasn't that far away._

_When Scabior arrived, he found Nero sleeping, wrapped beneath his coat. Scabior knelt down beside him and attempted to shake him awake, but nothing happened. He tried again. He grinned inwardly. Nero always was a heavy sleeper._

"_Nero." He said in a soft tone. "Nero, wake up, eh?"_

_Scabior increased his tone with each word, but still his brother did not wake._

"_Nero!" he said, more frantically upon realizing that Nero's chest was not rising and falling in his slumber. "Nero! Wake up! _Please_, wake up!"_

_**POP**_

_Scabior got to his feet quickly, his wand in hand. He whirled around to find Loren, who held his hands up in peace._

"_Easy now, _Scabior_." Loren said distastefully, Mica and another man flanking him._

"_What did you do?" Scabior demanded, his nostrils flaring in anger._

"_What did _I_ do?" Loren said innocently. "I did only what I was told. What I _promised_ I would do, unlike Nero."_

"_What?" Scabior asked, confused._

"_You thought He didn't know?" Mica said with a harsh laugh._

"_Know what?"_

"_Your brother, despite his many talents, lost faith in the cause." Loren said disdainfully. "What good was he to us?"_

_Scabior lunged at Loren with as much energy as he could muster but Mica raised his wand and shouted "CRUCIO" before Scabior could close the gap. The pain was excruciating and for once, he realized what he had put his victims through. He rolled over on his back, choking air back into his lungs, struggling to find his wand that had slipped from his hands._

"_I'm sure you're aware of how much faith He has in you, Scabior." Loren said, kneeling down, picking up Scabior's wand. "He admires your skill – He'd hate to see you waste it like Nero."_

_Scabior bit back the urge to let his eyes well and his throat close. He looked at his brother, who looked even more lifeless then he had before. Loren gripped Scabior's face, forcing the man to look at him._

"_I recall having said this once before, but," Loren said venomously, "have I made myself _clear_?"_

_Scabior nodded curtly and Loren tossed his wand on the ground. _

"_Good." Loren said and with another loud pop, they were gone. _

_Scabior rolled over onto his stomach, still recovering from the spell, and crawled to where his brother lay. He wasn't aware that he was crying until he felt the salt water streak his face._

"_I'm sorry." He managed to say. "I'm so … so bloody sorry. I … it's _my_ fault. I shouldn't have …" Scabior said to his brother whose face seemed to be paling by the second. "I was trying to protect you, us. I didn't mean for this to happen … I" Scabior was at a loss for words._

_He sat beside his brother for a few hours, calculating his next move. He had no family left, no one to be responsible for. It was a cold thought and made him feel like a shell. Part of him wanted to go after Loren and Mica and Voldemort but it would be foolish. He would be doing nothing but handing himself over to be killed. He wanted to fight against it, to fight against them for what they had done to him, to his brother. But he had to be smart about it. There was no way he would ever win._

_Scabior got to his feet after resting his hand on his brother's shoulder. _

"_I'm sorry, Nero." He whispered before dusting his jacket off. _

_He would bury everything deep in the crevices of his heart, only to be thought of when he felt his most low. He could continue to do his 'job' but this time, he would be relentless. He wouldn't let himself get distracted again. He wouldn't make the mistake of caring about someone ever again._

"But it turns out," Scabior said, sitting down beside you, his eyes locked hard on yours, "It's a hard habit to break."


	10. Ten

"But that was years ago, wasn't it?" you said, after recovering from the unbelievingly heartfelt compliment. "You spent all that time snatching?"

Scabior shook his head and took another deep breath.

_When Voldemort fell, Scabior was unaware. He was near the beach, hence the location of the hotel room. It helped him to relax a bit. Usually, Loren or Mica would find him, check on him, and inform him of the current events regarding the war. It was the first week of November when Aurors came to for him. Voldemort had fallen only five days before._

_He spent sixteen years in Azkaban. The cell was cramped and empty and there was a draft. He was forced each night to remember the countless people he'd beaten, tortured, cursed. He hated himself for it. He recalled one woman and her son that he delivered to the Ministry without hesitation. He watched when they were both killed and he didn't even blink an eye. He shut off his emotions; it was like flipping a switch. If he didn't want to care, he had that option. It had been so long since he held regard for another human life._

_His cell was next to Bellatrix Lestrange and he heard her shrieks and cackles. It was unnerving. He often wondered how Rodolphus put up with her, but that was another story._

_Scabior did not have much human interaction but from what he could tell from the guards who passed by occasionally, everything was right in the Wizarding World again. Voldemort was gone – everything had returned or normal. Scabior had to grin – Nero was right after all, the cheeky little bastard._

"But you got out." You said as a statement, because here he stood.

_Scabior hadn't expected for Voldemort to return, despite the growing rumors that he had. Only when his cell was blasted to pieces and Voldemort and various Death Eaters stood before him was he convinced._

_Voldemort was plenty furious with the likes of Lucius Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback for not looking for him, but Scabior did not have to worry about such fury – he had no option. Being imprisoned was almost his salvation. Almost._

"_If memory serves me right, and it always does," Voldemort said in an assuring tone, "You were the one who created the Snatchers."_

"_Yes, my Lord." Scabior said, somewhat reluctantly. It wasn't something he was proud of, nor wanted to do again._

"_And, I recall your efforts as more than satisfactory." Voldemort nodded, pressing his fingertips together. "I'd like you to continue, if you please. Take Greyback with you and keep him in check – I don't want him killing off _all_ the mudbloods."_

"_Of course, my Lord." Scabior said more convincingly._

"_Good. One more thing," Voldemort said, causing Scabior to pause, "You had a brother, I understand."_

"_Yes, I did." Scabior said, the thought making his throat sore._

"_Mmhmm." Voldemort considered. "I do hope that you do your best to avoid a fate such as his."_

_Scabior did his best not to give a reaction. He would remain calm, and prove that he had self control. Voldemort waited patiently for Scabior's response, which came in the form of a nod._

"And then you went back to the woods."

"And then," Scabior said, closing his eyes, "I went back to the woods."

_It wasn't hard to find people, especially now that Greyback and a horde of other Snatchers were at his side. In fact, it was quite easy. But it wasn't the same. There was no gratification anymore. Not to say that there was much gratification in it before, but at least he felt like he had a purpose._

_Being around people so passionate about what they do is a dangerous thing. Scabior found his old niche. He remembered how fast he was, how easy it was to trip his victims, to jinx them mercilessly. Greyback was relentless. He tried biting a few people but Scabior managed to talk him out of it._

_When they returned to the Ministry last, Pius suggested they split up, scour the areas more carefully as there were a number of students – The Boy Who Lived included – who did not return to Hogwarts._

"_Who knows?" Pius joked. "You might end up finding Potter."_

_Scabior had to roll his eyes at this. That was unlikely, but he agreed to look just the same._

_It had been weeks since he'd seen another wizard – Greyback was keeping a distance. Infecting people, no doubt. Scabior thought about returning to the Ministry just to check in, but decided against it. What was the point? No, maybe he'd go to his brother's grave. Yes, that's where he'd go._

_It wasn't a grave, not really. Scabior just knew the spot so well. He could sit there for hours, wondering what Nero would have done if he had lived. He never did get a clear answer about what happened when he died. He liked to think that maybe he had put up a fight, that he had given the Death Eaters that killed him a run for their money. Nero was always brilliant when it came to dueling._

_That's when he heard it. The snap of a few branches, a few twigs on the far side of the forest._

"It was you." Scabior said.

Scabior's eyes were glaze over with what you knew to be tears but his voice was as even as ever. You grinned at him softly, placing your hand atop his. He clutched it for a moment before letting it go.

"And here we are." You said, somewhat expectantly.

"There's still more I haven't told you. About _why_ you're here." Scabior got to his feet once again and pulled the familiar black ribbon from the top of a dresser, winding it around the ends of his hair. "When I tell you," he said after a moment, "I want you to put yourself in my position. Think about what you would have done. Some decisions just aren't easy."

"What are you saying?" You said after a moment, finding it hard to maneuver through his vague explanation.

"I made a promise to someone about you." He said carefully.

"A promise to do what?"

"I'm doing everything in my power to-"

"_A promise to do what_?" you demanded.

Scabior closed his eyes, as if he were expecting this reaction from you. He cast his eyes to the shoreline once more before returning them to you.

"I made a promise to kill you."

* * *

**A/N;** Happy Friday! I wanted to upload two today because I love you all so much. :D There's more to come this weekend - I promise! Once again, thank you all so much for reading this - I love knowing that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. :D


	11. Eleven

You were frozen. You half expected him to say this but the hopeful part of you begged for him to say something different. You saw his lips moving but you tuned everything else out. You must have heard him wrong. That's it. It was a misunderstanding.

"I don't understand." You said overtop of him, causing him to cease his explanation.

"I'm trying to fix it, but I just need some time to-" he said carefully.

No, you had heard him correctly the first time. Suddenly, you felt your mind begin to race. Everything logical had escaped you. This world of Magic that he had just told you about suddenly seemed more than plausible.

"No." you said with a shake of your head. "No, no, no." You got to your feet, pulling your clothes on along with your jacket. You needed to leave. It didn't matter that you had absolutely no idea where you were but anywhere away from Scabior was better. It was _safer_.

"You have to listen to me-" he began, grabbing your arm to stop you.

"No! I don't have to listen to _anything_ you have to say!" you retorted, angrier then you had ever been in the past. "I trust you. I _trusted_ you. And then you …" you shook your head, heading for the door.

"You can't leave." He said forcefully, pressing his palm against the door. Your strength had depleted but that didn't stop you from fighting him. You tried to pull the door open, clawing at the lock but he stopped you with ease. "I know you're upset, but-"

"I'm more than upset!"

"But you don't know what-"

"I don't think I _need _to know anymore!" you shouted back. At this, he grabbed you by your shoulders and pinned you to the opposing wall.

"You need to calm the fuck down!" he said, his face hard. "Now, it you let me explain the situation to you," he said in a sing-song voice, "then you might have a better handle on it, eh?"

Reluctantly, you bowed your head and took a deep breath, to which he released you. Leading you back to the bed, he offered you to sit down before shoving his hands into his pockets. He began pacing, which did little to help your nerves.

_When you were asleep in the woods the first night, when you sat wrapped in the warmth of his jacket, Alden Yaxley showed up. Scabior had just put the fire out when he appeared._

"_This is just precious." Yaxley cooed, causing Scabior to jump, as he did not expect the company._

_Thankfully, you were so exhausted that despite their loud voices, you did not stir._

"_What are you doing out here?" Scabior asked, dusting himself off, trying to buy time so that he could come up with a clever cover story._

"_Curiosity. Greyback came by the Ministry a few days ago and said he hadn't heard anything from you. Pius sent me to check on you." Yaxley said, eyeing your sleeping frame._

"_I see." Scabior said._

"_Didn't expect you to be cozying up with a muggle."_

"_How did you know she-" Scabior said after a moment with a raised eyebrow, to which Yaxley scowled._

"_You can't smell that?" Yaxley rolled his eyes and stepped toward you. When he did, Scabior tensed. "Protective?"_

"_She's not worth anything, Alden. There's no point." Scabior reasoned, more to himself then to his 'friend.'_

"_I'm not so sure about that." Yaxley considered. "You haven't told her – or _shown _– her _anything_? At all?"_

_Scabior fell silent. True, what you knew was limited, but it was enough for any self respecting Death Eater to kill you without thought._

"_I'll take care of it." Scabior said with a nod._

_Yaxley looked at him carefully, as if he were trying to judge whether or not to trust his word. Yaxley was tall with black hair and grey eyes. He just _looked_ dreadful. And he was._

"_See to it that you do." Yaxley said with a nod. He turned to leave but he stopped, as if he remembered something. "Here. Keep yourself update on current events." He forced a _Daily Prophet_ in Scabior's hands. "I would advise you to dispose of her soon." He said carefully before disapparating._

"So … what? He wants you to get rid of me? Just take me home." You said easily enough. Surely that was a simple enough fix.

"It's more complicated then that. They don't let anyone slip through the cracks, not now. That may have before but they're not taking any chances. They don't want to be 'careless.'" He said regrettably.

"What?"

"Yaxley won't forget what you look like. Or that you're with me, where we were, any of it. Neither will Greyback." Scabior said the former name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"The other one?" you said, recalling the man you and Scabior had run into only a day before to which Scabior nodded.

"He didn't say it but I have a feeling Yaxley sent him out there. Which means they know you're still with me and they want you." He sighed, which agitated you even more.

"But what do they want with me? I don't have anything for them." You shook your head.

"It's not about that. This whole thing is based on eliminating people _like_ you from our world. They can make an example of out, they can do whatever they want." He nodded.

You let this thought sink in. Against them, you were completely powerless.

"So what do we do now?"

Scabior hadn't thought that far ahead. He was bouncing back and forth between a fear ideas but nothing was certain yet.

"We'll stay here for another night. Staying any longer then that would be pushing it – they've already started looking for us already, I'm sure." At this you bowed your head, suddenly missing all the comforts of home. Your bed, your room, the little things that you had taken for granted. Noticing this, Scabior sat down beside you and pulled you in close.

"Hey, hey," he said, waiting for you to look at him before continuing. "It's going to be fine. I'm going to figure it out."

He was sincere – he _would_ figure it out; whether or not it would be too late, he didn't know.

* * *

**A/N; **Someone had mentioned that Scabior hasn't told you anything about Magic but had revealed a lot about people and such which was a bit strange. That said I have to clarify something; it's implied that he's told you everything about the Wizard World, I just wanted to highlight what was pertinent to him. I just didn't want to rehash everything that we already know. Sorry about that! :) (and thanks for pointing it out!)

Also, I keep listening to I Don't Care by Apocalyptica when I write about Scabior - I just think it fits his character well so and I wanted to throw it out there. :) Again, I appreciate all the feedback - it really means a lot 3


	12. Twelve

You couldn't be sure how much time had passed since Scabior revealed that the both of you were on a 'Most Wanted' list but you knew that it had been days since you'd had a descent night's sleep.

Scabior was wracked, his nerves shot. He never walked anymore, he paced. His face was pained and at the sound of the smallest noise, his ears perked up. He was always on his toes, always ready for Them.

The two of you spent one last night at the hotel before heading out and you had been walking for the longest time. Days, weeks, maybe even months. You tried to convince him to let you go home but he wouldn't hear of it.

"It'll just make things more complicated." He said dismissively.

"Just let me go home." You nearly begged. "Just tell them that you killed me."

"They'll want proof." He shook his head.

Scabior was torn; he couldn't keep you alive because it would mean his own neck, but he couldn't kill you, either. Keeping you with him was dangerous, but he couldn't just leave you alone. He was in a constant tug of war and it was a loosing game.

He thought that Greyback might show up soon. Surely they knew how to track him. He was sure that your scent would have been picked up. You had circled around the same patch of woods three times by now. But still, no one came.

Finally, after almost a week of constant travel and very little rest, Scabior set up camp. If they came, they came. He would deal with it then, but you were exhausted, and he couldn't make you take another step without some sleep.

"Scabior," you said after he sat down beside you, the fire glowing, "if they show up, what are you going to do?"

It was a good question. He had thought about nothing but that for ages. He would undoubtedly be out numbered so fighting back was useless. He thought about fabricating a nice lie that could save you both but nothing seemed substantial. Had you been a half-blood, there was a small chance he could talk them into just letting you go. But being that you were a muggle … they wouldn't stand for it. He could just see it now; you being dragged through the Ministry kicking and screaming, an example being made of you for everyone to see. He closed his eyes. He had to come up with something, and soon, but right now, he was drawing a blank.

"Just try to get some sleep." He insisted.

You weren't about to argue with him. You feet were aching and your mind was racing, the constant state of fear consuming you. Any minute you expected to be your last. You remember the last time you had seen those other Snatchers. They wouldn't be as forgiving a second time around, you knew that to be true.

It wasn't long before you had fallen asleep beside Scabior who draped his arm around you. He almost regretted taking you that first day. He should have just let you go but he didn't. And now he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

Scabior obliterated your so you remember none of it.

* * *

**A/N:** My apologies for taking forever and a day to update this. I deleted the last chapter before this one because I just didn't like where it was going. I think that's why I fell off track. I'm going to try my best to stay on track this time. :D Thank you for all the lovely reviews. I appreciate all your kind words! Also, sorry if this chapter isn't up to par, just wanted to get the ball rolling. ;)


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